One Fine Day
by kathiann
Summary: Just a day or most or a day in the life of our favorite CBI team. Set post season finale, but not really a finale fic. Written for the Reverse Big Bang over on lj, art done by akikotree.


**Authors Note**:Written for The Mentalist Reverse Big Bang over on LJ, art by akikotree (who is wonderful). Link to the art can be found on my journal (and my profile if I ever remember to update it). Betated by lgmtreader

**One Fine Day**

Patrick Jane was not a psychic, though he used to play one on TV. His life had changed drastically since he'd pretended to be able to talk to the dead and read people's minds, which is why he was laying on a couch in an historic California building pretending to be asleep. In the last few weeks the team he'd come to regard as family had slowly started welcoming him back from what they thought was a self-involved loathsome existence that surely spelled the end of the man they knew.

Of course, that was all just a ploy, a scheme if you will, to catch Red John, the man by whom Jane's entire existence had been shaped, at least these past few years.

It hadn't surprised Jane how quickly most of the team welcomed him back, back from the brink, back from obscurity, back from the dead. Welcomed him back so quickly in fact that they had stopped being careful what they said when he was in the room, had stopped caring that he was there, that he was not sleeping despite his eyes being closed, and had been going about life as it always had been.

He'd missed a lot the few months that he was gone. Rigsby's son was older, growing so fast, but then babies did that. And Cho…he'd withdrawn into himself, something to do with Summer, no doubt. Jane was ashamed to admit that he wasn't sure what had gone on with the two of them; he'd been too focused on trying to catch Red John.

It was a new day, a new dawn, and life was just starting to stir in the CBI building. Jane had given up hiding in the attic—at least for now. He felt that he needed to be able to connect with the team, and that being close to them was what was going to do it.

He wasn't psychic, but he could still read the moods of the team, still sense the emotions and thoughts of the people who surrounded him every day. He was thinking about getting up, making a cup of tea, when he heard voices. Rigsby and Van Pelt, from the sound of the footsteps. This was always interesting. As their voices came closer he listened in, filling in in his mind the things that were not said.

"Ben pulled himself up on the couch last night," Rigsby said, his voice excited. _I wish I could have been there and not just seen the video that Sarah had sent. I can't believe she's still mad at me about the whole faked death thing._

"That's great!" Her voice sounded happy, but to anyone really paying attention it was tight and a bit forced. _I really don't care. Not that I don't like kids, I just can't believe that it's yours with someone else, someone that you don't really even care about. _

"Yeah, he should be walking any day now." _Not that I'll be there to see it. I get him this weekend, maybe he'll hold out walking till then._

"Wow, that's exciting. Make sure to keep the camcorder handy so you don't miss it." _It should be me. That should be _my _son. Why did I decide that my career was more important than love? Where did that get me? A fiancé that was trying to kill me and the people I work with and a cold lonely house to come home to at the end of the night. Ben could be my son; we could be sitting together gushing over his accomplishments together._

Their voices faded as they left their stuff at their desks and went into the break room. Jane sighed. It was so obvious that Grace was still in love with Rigsby and that Rigsby was too blind to notice. No, not too blind, but too distracted. Jane knew that Rigsby loved his son, knew that he probably wouldn't have happened if Rigsby and Van Pelt had stayed together. Van Pelt was too focused on the job, at least right now. Or before Rigsby had a child, before every moment of every day was seemingly spent talking about the new cute things that Ben did.

There was a shuffle of feet and Jane knew that Cho was there. There was something off about the man lately. Something that had been off since before Jane pretended to go off the deep end. And Jane had been too self-absorbed to notice. Jane wondered what was going on in the man's head. What had been occupying his thoughts?

Cho sat down heavily at his desk. He didn't want to be here. Didn't want to be anywhere really. His mind had been clouded the past few months and he couldn't seem to come out of it. There wasn't a reason to as far as he could see. He'd nearly lost it with the drug dealer who'd beat up Summer, nearly lost it with her. He didn't like that side of himself, tried hard to hide it.

He'd thought he'd left that behind when he'd left home, when he'd decided that a life in the gangs was only going to get him and his family killed. But something about that woman, that gorgeous, maddeningly furious woman brought out the side of him he thought long since dead and buried. Sure it had resurfaced on occasion, but he'd always been able to hold it in.

And then Summer had come along. He hid it well, the effect that their relationship had on him, but he knew that Jane could tell that Lisbon suspected. Lucky for him Lisbon was too preoccupied with Jane and Jane didn't usually care enough to say something.

Cho opened his top desk drawer and threw his car keys into it. He knew it wasn't the safest place to keep them, especially with Jane "sleeping" on the couch just on the other side of the room, but he didn't care. If the man wanted to steal his car he was welcome to it. It might make things bit more exciting around here. Since Jane had been back the whole team had been on probation. Though to be fair it was more than likely due to the whole faking deaths thing and running off into the Nevada desert than anything.

Work was slow, not because there weren't crimes being committed, but because they weren't getting handed any cases. They—the cases— were all going to other units, other teams.

Cho sighed. It had been ages since he'd had time to read at work, since there had been enough down time do him to open a book and read. But things were different now. He opened his top desk drawer to see what he had in there; he'd finished the last book he was on yesterday and was looking to start a new one. He'd stocked his desk up with various books, dime store novels, self-help, current fiction and nonfiction, the last time he'd had to work a night shift with Rigsby. And now he was reaping the benefits of it.

He pulled out a small paperback, older and bought from the thrift store down the street from his apartment, and started to read.

Jane waited until the rustling from Cho's desk subsided before he barely opened his eyes and lifted his shoulders off the couch. Twisting slightly he could just see the book Cho was holding in his hands. There was a picture of cowboys on the cover. Jane had never really pegged Cho as the old school cowboy story type, but then, he'd never really been able to peg Cho down to a certain type.

Cho was a mystery to Jane; he was well guarded, and unlike the rest of the team he didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve. This intrigued Jane, he wanted to delve into the other man's psyche, poke and prod until he f f ound out what made him tick.

But now was not the time for that. Now was the time to give Cho space, to let him know that it was ok to be mad, to not trust Jane. And as hard as it was for Jane to not push he was going to force himself to behave.

Instead, he was going to bother Van Pelt, a favorite pastime. Something to do when he was bored. He knew that Rigsby would have left her alone by this point. Rigsby might not have a whole ton going for him, but at least he was predictable.

Van Pelt, unlike Cho, was very easy to read. Even if she was getting better at protecting herself she was still the easiest on the team to get to believe and to do things. Though, since Craig had turned out to be a Red John spy her trust was harder to gain.

Jane made his way into the small kitchen area; there was no rush, he knew the Van Pelt would be there. She had her back to the door, stirring a mug of what he assumed was coffee with hazelnut creamer, her usual.

"Hello Grace," he said, standing just inside the doorway.

"Hi Jane." She didn't turn around, just kept staring, lost in thought.

"Rigsby doesn't realize how much talking about Ben all the time bothers you does he?" Jane walked further into the room, and moved toward the sink to fill the kettle with water for tea.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She through her stir stick into the trash and moved as if to leave the room but Jane spoke again, stopping her.

"I see it in your eyes every time he talks about what Ben is up to, when he talks about how happy being a dad makes him. And in the back of your mind there's a voice that says 'that could have been me.'"

"Don't, Jane," she said, turning away from him.

"Don't what?" He smiled at her back, knowing that she could hear it in her voice.

"You know. Don't mess with us. I made my choice, he made his. And I don't want kids."

Jane was about to say something else, poke a bit more at the thoughts that he knew were running in the back of her mind, barely hidden beneath the surface, but she left the room, without looking back. He watched out of the glass walls as she made her way to her desk, ignoring the book Cho was reading and starting her computer. Jane's eyes drifted from her to the hallway as he saw Lisbon walk into her office. She was late this morning, not so much that most people would notice, but then, he was not most people. He wondered what was bothering her and made it his goal of the morning to find out.

Lisbon leaned her bag against the side of her desk and sat heavily in her chair. She was late this morning. Not late enough to get the attention of her as yet unnamed supervisor or to even be noticed by more than the front gate guard and Jane, but she was late nonetheless.

She blamed Jane really, she always did. She'd been at work for much longer than she would have wanted last night. She was still mopping up paperwork from the Red John fiasco. Well, the latest Red John fiasco anyway. It seemed that there was a new one every few months. If it wasn't a killing, it was a scheme by Jane to trap him.

And as much as she wanted to see Jane succeed, she didn't know if she could live through much more of the turmoil that always resulted. She rubbed her eyes, glad she hadn't bothered to even attempt to put on eye makeup this morning. She knew it made her look more tired, but she knew that by noon any makeup she would have applied would be smeared and smudged all over her face and hands. She'd tried the long lasting stay put stuff, but it didn't do any good. On days like this, ones she knew were going to be long just by the feel of it, she didn't even bother.

She stood, not looking at the stack of files she'd left on her desk from the night before, and walked to the window of her office. She twisted the rod to open the slats and looked out over the bullpen where her team was assembled. Well, mostly. Rigsby would be in the men's room this time of day.

She smiled as she saw Cho reading. It'd been awhile since she'd seen him reading, and it made her happy to see that he was once again indulging in a pastime that he had once enjoyed so much. He'd changed a bit over the years, not necessarily for the better. They'd know each other for so long that even small changes were obvious. She figured it had something to do with his CI, Summer. Lisbon knew that Cho and Summer had been closer that would be appropriate for a cop and a CI, but since Summer hadn't been around in ages she wasn't going to say anything.

Looking over to Van Pelt, Lisbon noticed how hard the younger woman was pounding at the keyboard of her computer. Jane must have said something to her. And as Rigsby came bouncing into the room Lisbon thought she had an idea about what was bothering the younger agent. Since Rigsby and Van Pelt had ended their sexual relationship it had almost seemed as if there was a contest going to see which of them could move on the fastest. First it was Van Pelt with the FBI agent Red John spy, then Rigsby with pretty much any female that moved until Sarah had gotten pregnant. And now he was all about his son. And he didn't seem to care if people wanted to hear about it or not.

"Good morning, Lisbon." Jane's chipper voice startled her slightly and she shook her head slightly to clear it before turning toward the door where he was standing.

"What do you need, Jane?" she asked, not really annoyed, but putting on a show like it anyway. She had to keep up appearances.

"Just coming to see how our noble leader was this morning." He smiled and she rolled her eyes. He was really laying it on thick.

"Go away, Jane," she said, sitting at her desk. "I've got work to do."

Jane, being Jane, ignored her. He placed a cup of coffee, made just the way she liked it early in the morning, on her desk and sat down on the couch in the corner, sipping his own tea and watching her work.

Jane sat on his couch in the bullpen watching as the team packed up for the night. He had a cup of chamomile tea in front of him on the table and would on occasion pick it up and sip it. It wasn't his favorite thing to drink, but it was far too late in the evening for him to be drinking anything with caffeine in it.

Rigsby was out the door first.

"It's my turn to pick Ben up from daycare tonight," he said, with a smile on his face. He grabbed his keys and wallet, slipped into his suit coat and was out the door before Cho could roll his eyes or Van Pelt could make a halfhearted attempt at a 'have a nice evening with your son.'

Cho sat at his desk after Rigsby left, turning pages on his book. Jane could tell he was almost to the end. Throughout the day he had watched as the number of pages on the right side of the book grew smaller and smaller. It seemed as though Cho was really enjoying the cowboy book. Maybe it was the lawlessness disguised as lawfulness that applied to him. Jane wondered if Cho would have made a better cowboy, or sheriff, or outlaw, than CBI agent. Jane watched as Cho turned what looked to be the last page of the book, give a half laugh and close it. As he put it back into the drawer he'd pulled it from that morning Jane wondered where he found the time to read among the other duties he had at work.

As Cho got up to leave Jane decided that he had to know and called out to him, "Cho! How Do you find the time to read all day and still get your work done?"

"Time management, Jane, I'm sure you know what that is." And without a backward glance he left the bullpen. A few moments later Jane heard the ding of the elevator and the swish of the doors closing barely audible even in the rapidly emptying and quieting building.

Jane sat a bit more upright, pulling himself up to a comfortable height and was about to open his mouth to speak when Van Pelt cut him off.

"I'm not in the mood tonight, Jane." She didn't look up from her computer, or the papers strewn about her desk. "Why don't you go bother Lisbon? You know she likes it when you come and talk to her."

"You don't want to talk to me?" He tried for his best puppy dog look, and sound since she wasn't looking at him.

"Jane," she sighed and turned toward him, "Not everything in the world revolves around you. There are other people in the world, others who are hurt as much as you, who have pain and scars and who feel as though the world has turned their back on them. And just once, _once_, I'd like to be able to go through the day without you poking at me with a stick."

And with that last statement, and a tremble in her voice, Van Pelt stood quickly and almost ran from the room. Jane wasn't sure where she was going, but decided not to follow; he didn't do well with women who were crying.

He looked over at Lisbon and could see her in the glow of her desk lamp. Van Pelt was right. As much as Lisbon acted annoyed when Jane came to visit her, she was still the best friend, probably the only friend, that he had.

He grabbed his mug off the table and went into the kitchen. After all the trouble he'd caused her lately, the least he could do was bring her a cup of tea to end the day with.


End file.
